Deny the Reeds
by Chicary
Summary: At the brink of judgement, one grasps for the fleeting chance at paradise while the other resigns to destruction. S10R6.


**Warning: **Some violence.

**Deny the Reeds**

Death for them began under the shade of a sycamore tree that jutted from the ground amidst a sea of empty desert. A fig fell with a thump, splashing sand on their faces and waking them. They stood and there was no lethargy, pain or the few seconds of disorientation that usually followed deep sleep and they knew at once that they had been defeated.

There had been that split second, before the Creature of Light extinguished him, to resign to death. And a part of him had done so. The part of him that recoiled at the very presence of the creature couldn't even comprehend the possibility of its existence, much less conjure a way to defeat it. Like a prey caught between the teeth of a crocodile, he knew no other possibility. But there was also that part of him that performed a great feat in bringing the Lord of Darkness to life. This part of him had surpassed himself as a human and touched upon the power of god. That part that was so sure of his victory mere moments before it was taken away, refused to believe this.

Just as his ambitions exceeded his own body, so had his conviction. This mind made even death shiver and so this was how they would traverse the _Duat_, torn between resignation and denial.

The one in black regarded the one in red as if he'd never before seen his own reflection. A bitter hiccup of a laugh popped from his throat as he dusted the sand off his cloak.

The one in red seethed and lunged at the one in black, aiming his fist to strike his counterpart's face. He moved swiftly, his full stealth still with him, even in death. His attack missed, even though the one in black didn't have time to dodge and he tried again, only to have it miss again.

"This is your fault," he shouted, blind rage barring him from realizing he would continue to miss. "You spun the game, arranged the pieces! You brought me back to life just to have me die again!"

The one in black, too, was surprised he hadn't been struck, but he couldn't complain. "And it had been your part," he said, agitated but more calm than the other, "to win. I arranged for your victory but you were responsible for making it happen. And you failed."

Another fist flew his way and he tried to catch it, but found that he couldn't. So, they could neither strike nor block each other. Interesting.

The one in the red showed no signs of being dead. His body was thick with corded muscle and his dark olive skin shone with sweat. His messy white hair still caught whatever light existed and the defacing scar on his cheek, it seemed, was still ready to heal. His agility hadn't changed and his emotions were still with him, at least his wrath was.

By contrast, the one in black was thin, almost emaciated. His skin had all but relinquished its colour and beneath his eyes were deep, weary hallows. By his dulled appearance alone, he looked much older than the one in red, even though their basic features remained the same. His strength and wit hadn't changed, but when he moved, he felt like a puppet manoeuvered by the unseen strings of the underworld.

"At least we bypassed the hooded serpents." He paused, eyes scanning their surroundings before falling on infinity, "Maybe a gift from Master Zorc."

"We're not entitled to anything from the Master other than what he wills. And his will is destruction, just as ours had been."

"Was."

"What?"

The one in black didn't bother moving the flaccid hair shading his eyes, "Master Zorc is dead too."

Before the one in red could retort, he headed for the tree, blew at the lowest hanging fig and picked it. It was soft, the skin evenly purple and ripe to perfection. He split it open, took a small bite and let it drop to the ground. It turned to dust as soon as it touched the sand. He picked another one, this time, throwing it rather than simply letting it fall. The thing ignited, the flames fanning out in a long tail before everything turned to dust when it hit the ground.

He picked a third and handed it to the one in red. "We don't have the same advantage here as kings or even noblemen. We'll have to eat whatever we find." If Zorc had somehow helped them at the start of their journey by landing them past the first gate, he wondered what else they were given. But he suspected that that was the end to their good fortune, the rest would be up to them.

The one time they got their hands on the _rw nw prt m hrw_, they'd memorized it. This could or couldn't work for them but it was worth a shot as they were probably buried with nothing.

If they were buried at all.

Even he had to flinch at that thought.

The one in red didn't move. His face was blank as he stared at he offered fruit.

"Even the dead need to eat. Or are you worried about poison?"

With a snarl, the one in read went to pick his own. But instead of eating it, he began to fill all of the secret pockets in his (stolen) robe. When he tried to fill more than his pockets could hold, they turned to dust.

He begrudgingly ate one and found it be filling, nothing more. It had no taste or texture, simply something to put in would-be empty space. As the one in black watched, he ate more, just to prove this fruit, _this world_, wrong. Somewhere in his desperation, he proved himself to be right, whether it was the actual case or not.

He felt his robe sag when he stepped away from the tree. Half of the figs had turned to dust in his pockets. Another step away and half of the remaining became dust. Stepping towards the tree didn't reverse this. He seethed again but couldn't find anything to release his anger on.

All the while, the one in black silently catalogued every detail. The rules were coming together but he didn't know enough at the moment to resist.

While the one in red tested the sycamore for any loopholes, the one in black ate his fill.

* * *

The first human they came upon had been rich when he was alive. Wrapped around his torso was a plaited linen kilt that had a brilliant band of gold and blue framing the hem. He had been plump, signs of it showing in the angry pale lines on his now diminished belly. Slung over his shoulder was an enormous sack from which several scrolls and useless shiny luxuries could be seen.

He was pushing a bronze chariot with the full skeleton of a horse dragging behind it. .

His steps were slow and laboured, an unexpected burden of carrying everything that had been buried with him. But he wasn't moving as slowly as he should have been, especially considering the chariot.

They hid in the shade of a mulberry tree as the soul made his way down the wide, rocky path. This place was lusher than the last; there were enough trees for one to find refuge from the hot, red sky. But this also changed the potential for deadly traps.

And maybe this soul would spring one of them in their place.

They watched attentively as he continued to drag forward. Something had to give him the strength to carry all that added weight, but they could see nothing out of ordinary. Except maybe…

The one in black squinted at the soul's face. Ah, there it was.

He was talking to himself. More specifically, he was chanting.

His gaze drew towards the scrolls on the soul's back and lingered there. _Could those be?_

A jet-black shadow stretched out from behind one of trees, blocking the soul's path. The screeching wheels of the chariot stopped as the shadow fanned out, creating an impossibly dark patch that looked like the gaping mouth of a pit. With a hesitant hand, the soul reached for one of his scrolls, the tips of his fingers barely brushing it as a beast sprung out from the depths of the shadow and launched itself at him.

It was massive, several times bigger than the average ibizan, its coat the colour of nighttime and its teeth sharper than those of a lion. From its mouth dripped blood instead of saliva and around its neck was a metal collar with Seth's signature on the dangling pendant.

The soul screamed when he landed backwards, right on top of the burden he carried. The fall must have broken his back. Its contents spilled out and the scrolls were sent skidding out of his reach. He lay on top of his half-empty sac, brow crinkled in fear and hiding behind his hands as droplets of blood sprinkled from the creature's mouth.

The creature's lips pulled back in a snarl and it spoke, but the unearthly deepness of its voice distorted the words. They seemed to come from elsewhere and not the creature itself. But the shaking soul beneath its forepaws could do nothing but cower.

His feet twitched and the flesh slowly began to dissolve. As the creature watched from above, the soul writhed and cried out as more and more of his legs were eaten away. His second death was slow and his voice grew hoarse but he wasn't granted merciful unconsciousness until nothing remained of him but a blood-slicked skeleton and the rancid smell of decay.

When it was over, the creature turned tail and left, jumping back into the shadow from where it came and the ground returned to the colour it had been before.

They hesitated, not so much out of shock, but more in caution of further danger. They then approached the scene. Instinctively, the one in red was drawn to the sack. He quickly dismissed what had fallen out and peered inside at what remained. His hand jerked back when the cloth singed it and when he examined the wound, he found that the skin had turned a dark, mouldering green. He thought for a moment, then reached out for a nicely engraved plate near his feet but couldn't bring himself to touch it.

The one in black kneeled over the set of scrolls. He picked one up at random and dropped it instantly. The same thing had happened. Fortunately for him, the scroll had unfurled and the writings that now faced him confirmed his earlier suspicion.

The soul had been carrying parts of the _rw nw prt m hrw _with him. And if he'd been able to reach their spells in time, he would have bypassed the monster.

Taking them from him was going to be complicated.

That same shadow reappeared, this time, faster. The beast was upon them again but in the short moment it took to decide which it would attack, they'd readied themselves. They'd out-run Pharaoh's best-trained guards, learned the secret behind every kind of pyramid trap and developed greater endurance than that of a horse. Their form was the _Aha Setesh_, which needed no weapon and involved spending much of their time upside down.

A well-placed kick from the one in red momentarily stunned the creature. He twisted his torso around and kicked again beneath its jar, throwing it's forelegs off balance. Its thick, black tail whipped around to strike the arm he used to balance himself but he pushed himself off before it could catch him, landing square on his feet.

The one in black searched the scrolls, hissing with each touch as pain jolted through his fingers. His hands worked frantically but clumsily, throwing open each scroll like a mau swiping at a rat. He read as much as he could but there was just too much text and his counterpart would start to slow before he finished. He tried to recall from memory which passages to search for but found that he'd forgotten everything he'd tireless studied when he was alive.

He looked up. The other had dropped his robe - no longer in the place to be showing off - and was fighting in only his dark loincloth. But he was sweating, a lot, and his chest heaved up and down with each deep breath.

The one in black's hands shook with agitated pain, completely ruined by purification up to his wrists. Everything was still in tact but it looked like his fingers would start falling off any time soon.

There was a sharp grunt as the one in red was smacked to the ground from behind by the creature's tail and it took all of his strength to roll out of the way before it dove down to bite him.

It reared its head again, growled so deeply that the sound shook the ground and threw its jaw wide open. It then stopped, its yellow eyes widening and watering in pain. A large bone had been shoved in its mouth – the lower leg bone from the skeleton of the horse.

The move had been desperate, almost automatic and it was more luck than skill that he was able to pull it off. It didn't burn, even though he'd been fully prepared for it to, so he was able to wield it well enough to do damage. The one in black pulled back as the thing thrashed its head wildly back and forth, its tail like an out of control snake. Blood rained on the both of them as it struggled. Then, there was a painful crack as it bit the bone in half and the pieces fell to the ground.

Its jaw fell along with them.

A strange sound came from its snout, too strange to be identified. Seth's signature disappeared from its collar in a wisp of white smoke and it retreated in fear.

The one in black grabbed another bone as a souvenir, licked it, and they carried on their way.

* * *

"_Aaru_."

"What?"

"_Aaru_," said the one in red, "There is always that."

He'd been silent for the several decades they'd walked since their encounter with Seth's beast. They'd almost given in to insanity when they started to see their own footsteps but being in the company of another during their journey had been a good defence against that. Still, the silence from the one in red had made it easy for the one in black to sometimes forget he was there.

The ghostly reflection of the Nile bubbled on either side of them as they traversed the narrow strip of dry land that cut between it. After awhile, the sound had become a sort of comfort, like that of a mother's beating heart against an infant's head.

"If this is death, then I can strive to reach _Aaru_."

The one in black blanched. It had taken the other one all this time to realize he was dead but apparently he'd lost some sense in the process. "And why do you think you'd be admitted? Has this world made you forget _that_ much?"

"I remember everything in greater detail than before."

"A funny lie."

The one in red reached into his right pocket, withdrawing a handful of dust and releasing if over the Nile's ghost as he walked. It made a whistling sound. "When the elder Pharaoh massacred our village to fashion the Sennen Items, he'd broken the laws of _Ma'at_. He tarnished his purpose and had to be punished for it."

"Which failed."

"But our efforts had been to restore _Ma'at_. We were taking Pharaoh's purpose away from him."

"It was revenge. There's nothing noble about that."

"What we'd done had been great and it only happened because the gods were with us."

"It was our hatred and our skill and Master Zorc had been using us. You've lost your mind, which fine because I still have mine. Stop bothering me with your desperate logic and keep quiet."

The Nile's ghost groaned and a large bubble popped on its surface. This happened periodically and they'd learned to ignore it.

"Obviously my logic is more than you can understand. Your mind hasn't gotten any bigger."

The one of black was ready to strike the one in red with his bone, which he'd been using as a walking stick. But when he looked upon his counterpart for the first time in many years, he was surprised to see so much resolve. Or maybe it was insanity. Maybe it was insanity trying too hard not to show itself. The one in red had taken to keeping his bottom lip tucked in his mouth.

"I'll pass the last test as well as every other one that comes before it."

The one in black didn't bother dignifying that with a reply.

* * *

Those who faced the Loneliness Test beyond the _Gate of Saa-Set _found nothing else to be crueller. This was true for only one of them.

* * *

"Revenge."

It had taken approximately a year for the one in black to answer. He'd hoped the other would come to the conclusion himself but gave up on it after a year.

"I'll bargain with the gods for another chance at revenge."

Their sandaled feet crunched with every step, driving the fine bits of bone further into the layer beneath it. The field was dense, so tightly packed with the remains of the dead that it gave them solid ground to walk on. They wondered how far the layers went and, if there was a bottom to it, what was beneath.

The one in red picked up a flat, jagged piece, likely to be a part of a skull, and started eating it. They'd eaten worse. He swallowed and laughed, spitting some of it out through his teeth. "And what could you _possibly _have to offer them?"

"My body -"

The laugher got louder.

"—my soul, my heart, my mind, my memories, my resilience, my sanity."

"Sanity. Yes, _that_." He tried to hold it in but another laugh popped out. He gave up on eating altogether and tossed the rest of the skull.

"The gods are always hungry for attention and always greedy for more servants." He grinned, "And I'm the rare sort that will give them all of it."

"They would rather rip you apart."

"At least I don't dream of _Aaru_ even though _Ma'at _recoils at the sight of me."

* * *

At the _Gate of Teka-Hra_, the leaf-shaped door turned on a pivot to admit them. They strode with confidence towards the snake guards, who relented and allowed them passage. This fuelled the confidence of the one in black in bribing the gods and gave the one in red greater assurance that _Ma'at_ had not turned her back on him.

Beyond the gate was a deformed line of gnarly trees, only visible to them when they approached a river of hot tar. Fumes rose from it in thick clouds, dizzying and oppressive. Floating unsteadily upon it was a large stone tablet, not unlike the ones used to seal away duel monsters. It was covered in etchings - riddles, and the river whispered its instructions to them.

The one in red took the first step and steadied himself. Finding that the tablet easily held his weight, he carefully knelt down and ran his hand over the first riddle.

_What side of a cat has the most fur?_

Easy. He picked up the drawing stone offered to him and answered.

**The outside.**

The one in black did not hesitate. He all but leaped onto the space beside his counterpart and picked up his own stone.

_A woman has 7 children. Half of them are sons. How is this possible?_

Without a second thought, he wrote his answer.

**The middle set are twins. **

The tablet started to sink. From behind them, globs of acrid tar reached up over the edge, tipping the tablet so they slid backwards. With one hand carefully gripping the side to support himself, the one in red cursed and shoved the one in black aside, crossing out his error and replacing it with a different answer.

**They're all boys.**

It was correct, the river whispered so, but it didn't stop them from sinking. More and more of the tar reached up for them, like little hands grabbing for treats. They dove forward in attempt to keep themselves balanced but an invisible wall barred them from moving forward. They had to answer the rest of the riddles.

_I have a hundred legs but cannot stand; a long neck, but no head. I eat the servant's life._

The fumes thickened, making it difficult to see or concentrate. The one in black coughed, fanning the smoke away as best as he could as his weary mind worked hard to redeem him.

**A broom.**

They threw themselves forward as tar nipped the soles of their feet.

_What three letters make a man a boy?_

**Age.**

_The more that there is,_

_The less that you see._

_Squint all you wish when surrounded by me. _

Both paused at this one. These were getting harder but the river was no less angry. They couldn't risk another wrong response but they could scarcely see the question, much less have the clarity to answer them. The river groaned and a large wave rolled towards them. It crashed far enough so that they weren't engulfed by tar but the force pushed the entire tablet down the river. All around them, they could see nothing but black.

Black.

That was it.

The one in red quickly wrote his answer.

**Darkness.**

They were more than halfway through now, managing to get to the centre of their flimsy raft where they'd be safest. Still, the tablet was at a dangerously sharp angle and, if it wasn't for the strength they'd developed during life, they wouldn't have been able to hold on.

The shore could blearily be seen where they were now. Had they been granted permission, they could have simply leaped across to safety. Just four more. Just four more.

It was impossible to think.

Just three more.

The tar scalded their legs. The pain was unbearable.

Two more.

They were vertical and their arms shook with fatigue. They were going to die again. Here.

Last one: _What is something you can show but you cannot see?"_

This one was easier than the rest. The turbulence died away just as quickly as it came and the tablet fell flat against the calm river, allowing its tireless passengers to crawl across to safety.

**My will.**

* * *

God's sun boat sailed gently across the red sky. Its eight oars moved in perfect synchrony like the wings of a falcon. The _Eye of Horus _on its billowing mast drew the gaze, calming the souls of the lost and wandering.

Injured and exhausted but not yet defeated, they watched as it passed them overhead. As it headed towards the _Gate of Osiris_, the one in red continued to watch until it was out of sight.

The one in black turned away.

* * *

Soft golden halos crowned the torches lighting the _Hall of Two Truths_. The stories of past, present and future kings covered the walls, which stretched infinitely towards the sky.

They stood at the bottom of a magnificent staircase. One thousand steps led to the top where the scales, the feather and the monster would be. And there were no parting words as the one in red began his ascension.

**-End-**

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**AN: **Although I tried to ground this on mythology, most of it is made-up. The details of Ancient Egyptian afterlife are very complicated and full of symbolic language. Some of the information I found are skewed to suit the purposes of this story, while others are pretty much turned upside-down. Except for the answer to the last question, I don't own any of the riddles.


End file.
